


Somewhere Only We Know

by Ineffable Storm (TheOncomingStorm)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Character Study, Extended Scene, Finally have their picnic, Garden of Eden, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Little demonic miracle of my own, Miracles, No beta we fall like Crowley, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), Tired Crowley (Good Omens), Well eventually, tired crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-02 08:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOncomingStorm/pseuds/Ineffable%20Storm
Summary: An insight to the finer details of Crowley's moment at the airbase, and the aftermath.A warm breeze coming and a weight settled on his back as the solid tarmac of the runway shifted and shoes sank into sand. Pure white, untouched and celestial that Crowley blinked while his wings stretched out. Drawn forth by the familiarity of the area and warmth that might feel like love to an angel, by Her grace.  Feathers catching in the breeze of the desert outside the Garden of Eden.





	1. The Safest Place I know

**Author's Note:**

> When you stare at a scene long enough, you notice things. And then inspiration strikes with a dash of theories filling in the gaps that suddenly you have to write the idea.

“Come up with something! Or- or I’ll never talk to you again.”

Crowley was stunned for a moment, eyes darting in search of the lie in Aziraphale’s words as he couldn’t be serious, but beneath that panic, that attempt of being brave and standing alone, it was the truth. A harsh truth, that hurt Crowley knowing that if they survived this Aziraphale would refuse to speak to him again if he just gave up. Swiftly Crowley started to think. As if they survived this, he didn’t want to lose his friend again. 

Mind began to race, attempting to ignore the shaking ground and focus on what he could do. He was already in agony from Satan’s wrath, exhausted from keeping the Bentley going with a miracle and  _ he  _ had to come up with something? 

Dropping his head to gaze at the ground, still searching for an answer and what came to his mind would take a lot of effort. A huge miracle, as this was Satan they had to stop, a creature no one controlled. This could backfire spectacularly, and if it did then not talking to Aziraphale was the last of Crowley’s worries. Thinking of the angel, Crowley brought his gaze back up to his angel as he stood there - sword in hand and pleading expression upon his face - Crowley made his mind up. It was worth the risk. Biting his lip as he focused, and imagined.

Mind raced to think of the safest place he could take them, going through different possibilities to where would be safe for even just a minute as time held. Seperate from this situation. Nothing really stuck, not feeling as safe as it once had, and with the need to gather energy to perform the miracle he let his mind settle on whatever would come then. Time would stop, hopefully, and they’d be temporarily away from here. To offer guidance to Adam, as they’d intended eleven years ago. 

Crowley started to growl in his throat. 

Gathering as much energy he could in his hands, it burnt almost with the weight of it. A truly unholy amount of ethereal magic and energy that it was almost intoxicating. Holding this much in his fingertips. Forcing it to bend it to his will, obey his imagination and then against the weight of it - and with a scream - he rose to his feet. Growling and snapping his fingers as he held his hands in the air, expelling the energy in a miracle, demanding that the world listen to him. For his angels’ sake. 

Everything went still for a moment, as the energy spread. No one around them moving, the cracking earth slowing. Crowley imagining the world still, Satan paused in its climb to the surface and that they - he, Adam and Aziraphale - were somewhere safe and imagined that everything was  _ listening to him.  _ And then silence fell, a dizzying sensation overcoming Crowley as he grit his teeth and white filled his vision. A warm breeze coming and a weight settled on his back as the solid tarmac of the runway shifted and shoes sank into sand. Pure white, untouched and celestial that Crowley blinked while his wings stretched out. Drawn forth by the familiarity of the area and warmth that might feel like love to an angel, by Her grace. Feathers catching in the breeze of the desert that had surrounded the Garden of Eden. 

A land no one had touched in thousands of years by God’s will. 

For a moment, Crowley was taken aback that this was the first place his thoughts went to as being safe, having expected the bookshop. But, that had burnt down. Wasn’t safe, and where else could they go? His flat? No, going to where his journey started with Aziraphale, a place untouched by anyone else since they left the walls and walked separate paths, made sense and Crowley turned to look at Adam. 

Eyes did glance at Aziraphale, wondering if he knew, but all his focus remained on the boy. 

Reaching into his jacket, his glasses were thankfully in the inside pocket. Giving more normality to this situation as he tried to help everyone focus. Putting the glasses on to hide the strain in his eyes from performing the miracle and not appear as demonic with his tarnished wings behind him. 

“Adam, listen, your father is coming to destroy you. Probably to destroy all of us.” The boy looked at him, a little shocked clearly to be no longer on the airbase. In a desert and stood before two Heavenly creatures. But there was a curious look in his eyes, innocence that took Crowley aback. This was the Antichrist left to his own devices?

“My dad? He wouldn’t hurt anybody.” It was said with such surety. Like it was a fact and nothing of the past week had occurred. 

If only it was that simple. “Not your earthly father.  _ Satan _ . Your father who is no longer in Heaven.” Crowley hissed a little, moving his wings against the hot sand to feel grounded. It had been thousands of years since Satan had shown himself, hiding in the deepest pits of Hell and Crowley struggled to imagine how that had corrupted the first Fallen. “He’s coming. And he’s  _ angry _ .” 

That anger was still felt, even here. Even though time had stopped, it rolled in hot waves that made the desert feel cold to Crowley. It caused an ache, or maybe that was the creature trying to break free of the miracle and Crowley grit his teeth to make it hold.

Adam simply shook his head a little, still holding that same strike of intelligence and surety in his gaze and words. “So what do you want me to do about it? Fight him?” This eleven year old boy stood there, and questioned if he should fight his Fallen father and Crowley didn’t know if he should be impressed or feel like this was hopeless. 

“I- I don’t think that fighting him would do any good. You’re going to have to come up with something else.” Despite the worry and ache, Crowley spoke softly to try and encourage Adam to think of the right solution. A little lost as he’d only manipulated a child towards evil in the past. He wasn’t sure how to guide him further. 

“But I’m just a kid?” It was as though Adam sensed Crowley’s feelings, as he turned away from them both. Clearly lost himself as he stared out into the desert. Not frowning, but clearly sad and overwhelmed. 

“Th-that’s not a bad thing to be, Adam.” Both Adam and Crowley looked at Aziraphale as he spoke up finally, the angel stepping close to Adam and even if he was still afraid, he smiled faintly as he spoke softly that missing guidance. “You know, I was scared you’d be Hell Incarnate. I hoped you’d be Heaven Incarnate. But you aren’t either of those things.” 

Aziraphale spoke so softly, clearly just as sure in his words as Adam had been. Maybe he was hopeful, declaring Adam to be neither a creation of pure Heaven or Hell or from his own feelings. It was the same fondness Aziraphale spoke of towards all of humanity, of his love for the world. 

“You’re better than that. You’re  _ human  _ incarnate.” Aziraphale gave a glance to Crowley, a tight smile showing as they both knew that humans were better than Heaven or Hell. Creations of Her imagination that held the best of both, sometimes a little of the worst, but were beautiful for all their flaws and they’d watched it happen. Had a small hand in it and Crowley stepped closer.

With those extra words from Aziraphale, that missing guidance, Crowley knew how to encourage Adam again. The whole of reality was at Adam’s will right now, as it was written in the plan, but that didn’t mean anything in the hands of a human boy. The Great Plan was nothing to a child’s imagination. “Adam. Reality will listen to you, right now. You can change things. And when I start time, you’ll have to do it fast.”

That was almost a scary thought, leaving it to the child to bend reality but yet Crowley had faith in the right outcome.

“And whatever happens, for good or for evil...” Aziraphale encouraged that human nature further, softly and unjudging. Unafraid even as he stepped closer, extending his hand out for Adam to take. Holding on tightly and moving to wield his sword aflame. Crowley looked at the sight, feeling a sense of right about the image despite the growing panic and drain at holding time still for so long. Holding Satan back, and he reached out for Adam’s hand himself as Aziraphale continued. “We’re beside you.” 

“I’m going to start time. You won’t have long to do, whatever you’re going to do…” Crowley looked ahead. Teeth gritting again as he spread his wings again. Behind Adam to protect him almost and feeling the brush of feathers against his. Knowing Aziraphale was doing the same, protecting the boy and preparing him for what would come when time started again. 

Holding out the tyre iron of his beloved Bentley, it hardly was a weapon but if this failed Crowley didn’t think he’d have the energy to fight. Not anymore and he focused. Gathering the energy again and to help focus his mind he turned the iron in his hand. As though cranking the engine of time to start again, winding the clock to tick again and forcing it to obey. Take them back. 

There was some resistance, making them stumble together at the gathering energy. Crowley imagined harder, turning the tyre again in his hand and thinking he could hear the sounds as he wound a clock as he felt his jaw clench. Eyes going wide as he felt it shift again, the trio stumbling before the sand gathered and then swept to the side. Bringing the airbase back into view, crimson as the ground cracked open and the first lick of Hell’s fire burst forth as time continued. “Do it quickly!”

Voice cracked a little, eyes darting to look at Adam then back where the ground was giving way. Satan returning to rising onto this plane with his anger, wings soon bursting forth from the ground and spreading as he pulled himself up. A monster of the worst sins, of every sin ever committed, and Crowley was glad for his glasses again. He felt the sight of someone who, a long time ago, had been a friend who dragged him from the right path and questioned, had made his eyes grow wide and yellow. In horror, in fear, or maybe just from the rage he felt. 

The creature known as Satan surveyed the scene, looking between everyone gathered - not even paying attention to the angel and demon stood amongst the crowd, before speaking with a deep voice. “Where’s my son?”

It looked harder, before narrowing its eyes and leaning forward slightly. Extending a hand slightly to point at Adam with a clawed finger. “You?!  _ You’re  _ my rebellious son? Come here!”

Despite staring down the lord of Hell and all things unjust, Adam stepped forward. Eyes still staring at the devil, determined. Shaking his head even faced with the creature that had birthed him out of greed and hate. “You’re not my dad. Dad’s don’t wait until you’re eleven to say hello. And then turn up to tell you off.”

“What?”

Satan was puzzled, staring at Adam as they met each other in the eyes. Crowley stared as well, praying this worked. That Adam’s will and focus on reality would win out. “If I’m in trouble with my dad-” The ground shook, causing Adam to stumble and the crowd to nearly fall. The anger of Satan rising further at those words, a fist clenched into the cracked ground. “- then it won’t be you. It’s going to be the dad who was there. You’re. Not. My. Dad.”

“What did you say?”

Azirapahle stepped forward, inline with Adam’s shoulder from the perspective of Satan. An angel giving guiding words that caused the creature to snarl. “You can do it!”

“ _ Say it _ , Adam!” Crowley spoke up as well, following the angel. Together they would be a voice of reason, the Godfathers they self proclaimed themselves to be. Only not ones of pure evil or good; just humanity. Guardian angels as both threw their wings out in the other plane, knowing that the fallen angel would see them. “ _ Say it again _ !”

Another shout came, Satan enraged as he tried to pull himself more from the ground. Unable to truly, that he slammed his fists to the ground. “Come here!”   
  


Adam continued to look unphased, staring determined and focused. When he spoke next, it was still calm but set as it caused the shift in reality. “You’re not my dad. You never were.”

Realising what was happening, Satan looked around. Hands coming up as he grasped at the ground again before shouting out. “No!” Repeating the word as he twisted, as though in pain and desperate. It could feel it, reality shifting to make Adam’s word truth and Satan let out another cry before it faded into smoke. The ground closing under him and no sign of Satan remained. No cracks, or disturbed energy, just the sunset basking the floor in red and the group stood as in the distance a car drove down the runway through the fading black smoke.

Crowley looked around after a moment, raising a brow as he took in their surrounding and how normal it all looked. The only signs of Armageddon remaining the sword, unlit, in Aziraphale’s hand, a tainted crown and a set of scales. There was a shift, so subtle that as Mr Young left his car, calling out to his son, Crowley couldn’t hold back a faint smile. 

“That’s not really his father…” Aziraphale didn’t sound sure even with his words, glancing to Crowley who turned to stare back. Less than a minute ago that would have been true, as Adam had no earthly father but now...

  
“It is. It is  _ now _ . And it always was. He did  _ it _ !” Crowley stumbled a little, overwhelmed before he grasped onto Aziraphale’s arm to remain upright. Panting as the strain of the miracle finally caught up, adrenaline fading but Crowley smiled regardless. 


	2. A Broken Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bus ride back to London isn’t all silence.

Slumping into the bus seat for the long drive to London, Crowley moved to rest his head against the window. Thinking back to the airbase as the bus pulled from the village centre and began it’s unwilling drive back to London. A minor miracle, or maybe a little whisper of persuasion, nothing too draining with how exhausted Crowley felt. His eyes barely wanted to remain open, and while everything was resolved without the worlds destruction, it wasn’t over for them. It had only began; now they single handedly would have to face Heaven and Hell’s wrath. 

Besides him Aziraphale sat a little stiffly, hands clasped together on his lap as thumbs twiddled together. Unspoken words trying to escape with the movement, and Crowley knew that his angel likely had a lot of thoughts himself. Worries. Mainly what the prophecy meant, hopefully, and not on the small details. 

“You know, Crowley… that place you took us looked-”

“Familiar, I know,” Crowley interjected, glancing through the metal sides of his glasses to Aziraphale. Frowning slightly behind his glasses and wanting to curse. “You know how miracles work, had to be somewhere I knew. Just as surprised myself, wasn’t what I was thinking of when I wanted somewhere ‘safe’.”

A silence fell between them again, Crowley drumming a finger against his leg. A dull rhythm, maybe something of Queen if he thought about it, but it was a distraction just as much as Aziraphale fussing with his hands. Surely this wasn’t important for now? Not when Crowley felt so tired, and they had to worry about bigger problems. Did it matter that he took them to the desert that had surrounded the Garden of Eden. Where they first met. It was safe, forgotten about and lost to humans who were expelled from it. Maybe them as well, since the wall protecting the garden hadn’t been in sight.

Crowley could remember leaving the garden, finding his feet across the desert and any time he’d look behind him he’d notice that the walls seemed faded. Not from sand catching in the wind, but like he couldn’t focus on it. Wasn’t allowed, and he eventually settled that was true. As once the sand went from white to golden, it was impossible to find his way back if he tried as his wings folded into another plane. Same with Adam and Eve, who had stumbled the desert and equally if they walked back towards their once haven, the sand never changed to allow them entry. 

It was cruel of Her. 

Casting Her children out and denying anyone from seeing safety. Crowley just wasn’t sure which children he was thinking about. 

“I’m simply surprised we were… allowed. She hasn’t allowed even angels to touch the area in four thousand years.” 

“The Almighty works in mysterious ways.” Crowley mumbled under his breath, but putting on a voice that was a mimic of angels. Mocking their view of their mother. Slowly he lifted his head from the glass, turning to look at Aziraphale who was clearly contemplating a lot. Not really frowning over his mockery, and this clearly was a concerning thought to his angel. “Look, it’s probably something to do with the miracle. It might not have even been the real place. Was too preoccupied with stopping time and Satan than going to a real place or- or some made up image. Not important.”

That was a lie. One of the few he ever spoke to Aziraphale, as Crowley knew it had been the real place. In his imagination, even if it was strong enough to pause all of time, he wouldn’t have been able to replicate the feeling the Garden of Eden held. That grace and love. Would a demon even be able to copy Her love that accurately? Crowley couldn’t remember how it felt, and really he only experienced a mimic of the feeling towards Azirapahle. That was carnal, and maybe created from greed to keep the angel as his. 

A small sound left Crowley, a grumble, and he folded arms across his chest. Realising he was thinking too deeply on this with energy he didn’t have. Closing eyes again as he turned his head back, temple firmly against the shaking glass, he tried to ignore it. Ignore every question he had towards that moment. Contemplating how he was still living was a less exhausting time passer. 

There was a jolt in the road, head hitting the glass lightly and Crowley felt Aziraphale reach out for his arm. Holding it for support, before slowly fingers brushed along. Not letting go. “I do hate when you lie to me.”   
  
“‘M a demon… what I do, angel.”

“But not to me,” Aziraphale spoke softly, squeezing his arm and Crowley opened his eyes slightly. Feeling an ache in his chest. “And besides, I don’t think you could… that is, the desert. You likely couldn’t feel, but it was filled with Her love. Like She was close by, so I firmly believe that was the desert surrounding the garden. Despite being hidden from view.”

Admitting he could feel it would make Aziraphale go off on some talk of forgiveness, as demons didn’t get forgiven. And it wasn’t the same overwhelming experience Aziraphale mentioned. To Crowley She was nearby, but still distant. Merely like the breeze over hovering close. Maybe any demon would feel it that close. 

Fuck, he hated this. Turning eyes to the dark countryside, the clear sky above Crowley wanted to scream or ask questions again. Or both. Make Her listen and give him the answers he’d asked for. That’s all he’d done. Ask a curious question. Why had that been a crime worthy of Falling when he’d still been devoted to Her? Eyes trailed to a bright star in the sky, which Crowley knew to be made up of two singular stars shining brightly together as one. 

“I don’t know, angel. If it was the real place then I… I stopped all of time. Made Satan stop. Maybe for a brief moment, I had the power to do whatever I wanted.”

“And you used that power to save humanity.” Aziraphale laughed softly, fingers running again against his arm. 

“Mmwell… you asked me to do something. Just a little demonic miracle.” Shrugging, Crowley kept his eyes on the star. Watching as it disappeared behind branches and reappeared just as bright. It really would look beautiful this time of year. 

“ _ L-little _ !?” Hand tightened on his arm, Aziraphale spluttering to himself before letting go. It felt colder without the somewhat comforting touch. “You… you could have been  _ killed _ . If it went wrong.” 

Crowley let out a sigh, lifting his head again and looking away from the stars. “Angel… I know. But what else were we going to do? Hope Adam figured it out alone? He’s eleven. Even the Antichrist needs some help knowing what to do with all that power. A pair of.. Guardian angels.”

Pulling a small face, that didn’t sound right from his mouth. But what else were they? Godfathers and guardian angels to the Antichrist. No wonder Heaven and Hell wanted them dead. Even if they hadn’t helped prevent the apocalypse, that type of fraternising did sound sinful. 

Closing eyes and leaning head back, Crowley wondered if he could sleep the entire trip back. This wasn’t his bed, but it was a slight improvement on using his wall in a fit of restless sleep. Had some softness about it, but when head fell to the side Crowley opened his eyes again. Staring tired as he shuffled and moved to lean back against the window. Unaware he was being watched closely.

For a long time there were no more words. Just silence between them, Crowley half asleep even as his head moved with the bus. Uncomfortable as he kept folded in on himself. Glasses pressed into his temple with the angle, causing a faint headache to form but it was better than talking about what had happened. Only just. 

Crowley flinched when he felt something around his back, lifted his head as an arm settled around his shoulders. A soft hand coming to gently cup at his jaw and cheek and slowly it pulled him close. Bringing Crowley to rest against Aziraphale’s shoulder and exhausted, he leant heavily into the angel. Feeling as fingers stroked along his cheek, trailing slowly into his hair to brush through his fiery locks. “My dear, you should sleep. I can wake you when we arrive at your flat, and think about what the prophecy could mean.”

  
“‘M trying to, but someone keeps speaking.” Snarked back, but Crowley smiled. Breathing deeply and tongue flicking idly. Especially when fingers pressed into his scalp, playing with the short sides. Yes, a sleep would be nice. After everything today. 

As a rule, demons didn’t dream. Nor would an angel if they indulged, but demons often only are left contemplating alone in their unconscious state. At best they would suffer nightmares, which to any sane demon would be a dream. When Crowley found himself asleep resting against Aziraphale, however, he wasn’t subjected to nightmare scenes or left to his own thoughts. Rather blissfully, he was taken back to a wall and staring out to a familiar desert. Wings spread wide against the wind and it made him smile faintly at the comfort it brought. The warmth embracing him as everything felt at peace.


	3. One Week Into The Rest Of Their Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a longer chapter, but then as I was writing I realised both how long it was getting, and also liked where it broke off. So decided to split it into two chapters, allowing me time to perfect the second half and also not post too much in one chapter.

Crowley opened his eyes to his dim flat, blinking away the exhaustion as he arched his back. Stretching from the position he’d found himself in, slumped into the rigid throne. After their swap, a week ago, Aziraphale and Crowley had given themselves a small space after the meal. Just to be safe, be sure no one was looking or paying close attention. It had been silent for him, and as far as Crowley could tell nobody from Heaven had descended as nothing more Heavenly came to taint the London smell. Both their acts seemed to have worked, put fear into both sides of not knowing what they’d become. Neither demon, nor angel. 

How wrong they were.

Turning his head to press into the plush velvet, Crowley still had a lot of thoughts and questions about the events at the airbase. About everything really, as you didn’t prevent Armageddon and not question it a little. Some of it involved Her, a lot of it his own actions and a little towards his angel. But none had answers he could find. Just silence when he spoke out, hoping for answering words. Crowley only had one answer to his questions, and that was he was unbelievably tired. 

Not in the human sense, where he knew sleeping for a night would help. Crowley had tried that already, sleeping a whole day away three days after their swap and expending the little energy he had regained. Hoping that it would help, but he’d awoken feeling heavier and none the better. No, it went deeper than that as he slouched in his throne again. Staring out blankly into the barren room and he could feel it to his very core. 

As a rule, angels and demons didn’t need to sleep. Or grew tired. They existed and responded in the now with no long term consequences. But, over time, some things could wear them down. Normally it was cruel things like war or big acts of Her grace, to the respective side. And sometimes, it was miracles. 

Demons didn’t just easily stop the whole of time, including Satan, and not feel the effects of it. 

It drained, and in the moment Crowley hadn’t felt it. Too fueled by adrenaline and fear, over the chance he could lose his best friend again, to feel the consequence of stopping time and moving them to a land no longer allowed to be seen. He hadn’t felt how he could barely remain upright and legs shaking while Adam was scolded by his father. After, on a dark park bench, he had though. On a bus ride back to London resting upon his angel’s shoulder. And since then it hadn’t left him. 

Despite all his bravo in Hell, his given duty to deliver the Antichrist eleven years ago, Crowley was not a high ranking demon. Just creative enough to pull off a large miracle and live to tell the tale. That’s all it took to perform a miracle. Ethereal energy, and a lot of creativity. 

Yellow eyes scanned the room, looking for distraction as Crowley felt that ache deep within him. That crave to sleep and recover. If only he could, but the idea of leaving Aziraphale alone after everything left him filled with guilt and unable to do more than close his eyes for minutes at a time after his extensive nap. What if they hadn’t fooled Heaven and Hell enough? He went to sleep and they came back, killed Aziraphale while he slept and it was a sickening idea. More sickening than standing in the burning bookshop and thinking it was Hellfire despite how it licked his skin painfully. 

Beside him on the desk the phone suddenly rang, clicking to voicemail swiftly as generally Crowley didn’t want to speak to just anyone right now, and cautiously Crowley turned his eyes down. Glancing to the device as he listened to his own voice playing back, waiting to see who was calling before bringing the energy up to move. 

“—ish you’d change your recording, dear. But I- I wondered if you wanted to get lunch? Maybe have a few dri-“

Crowley reached across and picked the phone from its holder. Still looking tired as he spoke down the receiver, “mmman’ what brought this on angel?” 

“O-oh you are there, well I thought now that we didn’t have to keep up appearances we could... just indulge a little. And I haven’t heard a peep, so I think it’s safe to stop hiding now.”

“You miss me,” Crowley spoke amused, smiling faintly. 

“N-no! Well, maybe a little. But dining in company is always more appealing, and there’s somewhere I’d like to take you.” 

Humming down the phone, confused Crowley moved to stand. Glancing out to the London landscape and watching the roll of darkening clouds on the horizon. It was going to rain some time today. “New place opened up?”

“Not- not exactly. It’s more of a picnic idea, but if you meet me at my shop we can get everything gathered.”

This was confusing Crowley the more Aziraphale spoke, not certain what he had planned or in his mind. “It’s not picnic weather today, angel.”

“That won’t matter. Just… trust me?”

Crowley looked at the receiver, confused by the pleading tone he was getting. Remaining silent before speaking quietly. “Always.” 

* * *

It had started to rain after he’d gotten in the Bentley. Soft raindrops on the window, a soothing sound that caused the demon to sit for a moment in peace. Indulging in the peace he got inside his car, even if it wasn’t perfectly right. A little off in the smell. Better than nothing, and befitting considering it was a gift from the Antichrist in the world reset. 

Perhaps more importantly than the status of the Bentley was whatever Aziraphale planned today. A picnic. It made Crowley stare through the window to the shop for a few minutes before he’d gotten out from the Bentley. Remembering the flames engulfing the windows, smoke billowing out and the emptiness radiating off over a distinct lack of his angel. Presence gone, a simple old bookshop up in flames and the panic setting in as the rain fell heavily--

Crowley breathed in sharply, hands tightened on the wheel as he forced himself to blink away the image of the inflamed shop. Forcing himself to breathe deeply to take in the wet London street, the distinct lack of smoke in his lungs and make his eyes see the shop as it was. Slowly the panic began to fade, or rather Crowley pushed it deep down with careful breaths. It was fine, he’d inspected the bookshop himself when disguised as Aziraphale, that he forced himself out the Bentley finally. 

In the window a new sign was hanging, scrawled in elegant writing but too tight and proper for Crowley to read. Reading wasn’t his strong suit. Whatever it was, it was new and Crowley frowned as he walked inside. Glancing around the shop, how it looked peaceful as though resting. Not holding the energy of Aziraphale and he rose a brow as he moved to wipe his glasses on his shirt. Eyes glancing around before seeing a picnic basket, rolled up blanket atop and a small scoff left Crowley. 

“I’m sorry, but as the sign said we are closed for a-- o-oh, Crowley! You’re, well… early or late. I’m not sure yet,” Aziraphale came from between a row of bookshelves, smiling at Crowley when he noticed it was him. His century old coat was missing, sleeves rolled up for the moment and glasses perched on his nose. 

“Closed for a…? Is this picnic that important for you to declare the shop formally closed, angel.” Crowley leaned gently against a shelf, wanting support while upright as his legs still felt heavy after his brief panic and that didn’t help his feeling of exhaustion. The position did help Crowley focus on the air in the bookshop. It felt like it was intended to be unoccupied for a short while. A buzz of a miracle to keep it in the current state under that sense of peace. What was going on?

“Somewhat. After everything, I felt like a holiday was in order. So I’ve closed the shop for undecided amount of time. It’s why I suggested a picnic.” Waving a hand slightly to the basket, Aziraphale smiled before disappearing in the shelves again. Fussing with books while Crowley stood there, brows raised confused. Of the pair, he was the one most likely to suggest this. Yet here they were, Aziraphale deciding they were taking a holiday. 

A sly smile formed on Crowley’s face, and he pushed off the shelf. Walking to follow after his angel amongst the towering shelves. “Not like you. To be this spontaneous.”

There was a slightly sly smile thrown back over Aziraphale’s shoulder, followed by a shrug and no words to explain further. It truly was a curiosity and Crowley left his angel to finish whatever he was doing. Glancing at the various spines of books as he waited. Unable to read the lettering, but that didn’t matter as his eyes were too tired to really see much anyway. After a while Crowley realised he’d just stood there unseeing, asleep on his feet and he shuffled and walked out of the shelves. Dropping into the worn sofa at the back of the shop. 

Head fell back against the fabric and blanket instantly, and while he listened to his angel move amongst the shelves Crowley let his eyes close for a moment. As a rule, he didn’t need to close his eyes to sleep, and if he slept for more than a week he had a habit of opening them. But around company it felt easier to sit in darkness. Not watch everything turn into shadowed shapes as instincts took over, and also a lot less screaming or expected conversations expected of him. 

For a brief moment he was taken back the Garden again. It was happening a lot, currently. Either he was wandering the lush growth and plant life, or Crowley was stood on the wall. Alone or with Aziraphale. Depended on when he was asleep he was starting to notice; right now he was definitely alone in the Garden. Able to circle the apple tree to it’s centre, admiring the apples hanging. Ripe and ready to be picked by anyone daring to seek knowledge. Crowley smiled and found himself reaching out, touching the perfect shell before he suddenly jolted awake and was back in the bookshop. 

  
Groaning, feeling stiff, Crowley sat up a little straighter. Bringing a hand to run down his face, pushing glasses aside and when eyes found their focus he saw that Aziraphale stood holding the basket. Maybe a little bashful as his eyes didn’t seem able to settle on him easily, and Crowley righted his glasses. Ignoring the voice saying that Azirpahale had watched him sleeping. It was a nasty voice, planting thoughts in his mind that were too good to be true. 

“Ready angel?” Crowley nodded his head to the basket, moving to stand and ignore how much he wanted to just curl up on the sofa. Bury into that ridiculous tartan blanket and sleep under the watchful gaze of the angel. 

“O-oh, yes. I think so. Blanket, a basket filled with food and a good book,” the endearing smile following those words made Crowley make a small noise in his throat. 

Then he looked out the window to the street barely visible past the blinds. “What about good weather? Unless it’s outside of London wherever you plan on this picnic happening.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Aziraphale smiled softly. “Its outside of London. Quite far, in honesty. But you’ll love it. Trust me, dear.”

“You’ve asked me to trust you twice today, angel.” It wasn’t a question, or a jab. Crowley was simply speaking honestly in his confusion. Wondering where this place for a picnic was, to desire Aziraphale to ask so much about trust. By now it should be obvious Crowley trusted this damn angel too much, and when a hand was held out for him he didn’t hesitate when he moved to take it. 

Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off the angel as he walked them towards the circular centre of the bookstore. Like the needle to the compass Aziraphale had painted along the oak wood, and Crowley glanced around confused as he expected them to head outside to the Bentley. Or something. Not stand here, waiting. He almost went to speak, question finally when he had to close his eyes against a blinding white light. Hearing the rustle of feathers and wings coming from the other plane and then suddenly the sound of rain against windows was gone. Bustle of Soho faded and for a brief moment Crowley felt like he was weightless. 


End file.
